


Imagine you're a museum worker...

by imagineyourepregnant



Category: Original Work
Genre: Birth Fetish, Breeding, Breeding Kink, Egg Laying, Eggpreg, F/F, Fpreg, Magical Pregnancy, Pregnancy, Transformation, Transgender, Unplanned Pregnancy, erotic birth, labor fetish, multiples pregnancy, perpetual pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-09-03 03:02:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16754800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imagineyourepregnant/pseuds/imagineyourepregnant





	Imagine you're a museum worker...

Imagine you’re a museum worker, and the museum just got a new exhibit on loan from the British museum. As curator you need to unpack the crates. As you do, you notice a beautiful set of golden and topaz jewelry, and because good never tanrishes, you don’t mind picking it up and inspecting it. One amulet with the outstretched wings of Isis is so alluring, you can help but put it on. You feel a certain warmth, a sense of placidity and contentment you’ve never felt before. You pull look at yourself in your phone’s camera… Holy crap, you’re a girl now?! How come you didn’t notice the ample bosoms you’ve grown? You peek beneath your waistline, shocked to see a vagina instead of a penis, but for some reason, it feels more natural. Th-this must be the amulet, you have to take it off before…

Oh… You feel a small queasiness in your core, definitely not your stomach. Is that your womb? What is going on! You scramble over to the crate again, your unsupported breasts jiggling and jostling under your now baggy-but-tight-in-the-chest shirt. You notice a note underneath where the amulet had lay.

“Don’t put on unless alone ;)” it read.

Some cheeky Brit knew what this thing did, and didn’t warn you before this? Nice. Why were there little ovals drawn next to the text? Little hearts wafted near the… Ovoids? Eggs?

As of to assuage any uncertainty you had, your belly started to swell out. Not quickly, but over a matter of minutes (in which your curiosity and that damnable placidity kept you from taking the amulet off) your belly swelled to resemble that of a pregnant woman close to term. You can’t help but enjoy you you look, though you have a nagging horror at the back of your mind as to how you were going to give birth without so much as a single sexual encounter to make it worthwhile. That would not do.

You carefully unbutton your shirt as your belly makes it tighter and tighter, running your newly-delicate hands over your breasts. Ohhhhh myyyyyy goooooood. Nipples! They feel so good! Better than anything you’ve ever felt in your life! Orders of magnitude more sensitive than your old penis, and leaking little streams of milk to boot! Your nipples are like tiny little fountains; each wave of pleasre you feel from touching them nearly doubling you over and increasing the pressure of the streams.

You reach a hand down to your nethers, hidden behind your right tummy, but feeling hot and empty at the same time. Oh Lord. Oh Isis, goddess, what is this pleasure? You slowly run at your clitoris, finally understanding why women make noise during sex. You can’t help it, little purrs and groans spring unless from your throat, the pleasure simply too much to keep inside. Hoooh, ohhhhh, it feels so good! Like a cock, but so much better! Every movement, every stroke dwarfs your old male orgasms. You’re dripping all over your hand now, firmly convinced you never want to be a man again. Nothing is worth giving this up.

Then you feel something inside you shift. Your belly contracts, dumping heat and pressure into your new cervix. You double over, gasping. How are you giving birth so soon? And to what? But… Is this birth? Birth is supposed to be painful, but this feels like a full-body wave of pleasure. Another contraction hits you, your water breaking. You leak a torrent of fluid into the museum warehouse floor, moaning pathetically. You have to pay down, you can barely keep your eyes open and your thoughts straight, this just feels too good. You doubt you could remain crouched, even.

You may on your back and open your legs, one hand on your clit, the other on your leaking nipple. You have another contraction, and feel something hard shift inside your womb. Each contraction presses against whatever is in your womb, making you cry out in ecstasy, a stinging orgasmic feeling you’ve never known. The pressure moves down your birth canal. Is it…. Oh Isis. Oh goddess. Its an egg.

Another contraction hits you, your belly shifting slightly, your teats streaming harder and higher during these orgasmic spasms. The egg slides right down into your pelvic bowl. In your delirious pleasure, you have only a moment to think hey, isn’t that where the g-spot is loca-

OOOOH. OOOOAAAAA! HAAA!

You cry out, fully screaming, your toes curling and your mind going absolutely bland as your new g-spot is squeezed between the egg and your pubic symphysis. You wildly convulse, unable to help yourself from thrusting your hips into the air as if humping something. Each movement shifts the egg slightly, stimulating you further. Its too hot, too much pressure, *too much* pleasure. Your nipples, once too much to handle, are entirely forgotten as your clit is stretched and your spot massaged by this large egg. Oh goddess, make it stop, it’s too much, it’s too much!

Your belly contracts again, pushing another egg down to force the first into crowning against your labia. You are sobbing with pleasure now, unable to control yourself. You must look a sight, a pathetic, moaning, mewling, convulsing mess in a puddle of her own mothers’ milk. Another contraction, another moment of earth-shattering orgasm, and the first egg is out. No pain, just an ostrich-egg sized ovoid of aquamarine. The second egg slides down to replace the first, renewing the stimulation. Now you think you might be about to be pushed over the edge. You feel something almost like the tightness of a male orgasm, the throbbing, but now it’s your labia that are contracting, pushing the egg back in and letting it fall back to crowning in quick sequence. It pushes the egg over your spot over and over again, each movement caused by your orgasmic contractions, so in time with the climax of stimulation. You cry out, again, your hands desperately clutching at your belly, unable to muster the motor control to even take the amulet off.

Oh, sweet goddess, it’s too good, it’s too good. You didn’t know such pleasure was possible; you’re transcending levels of physical feeling. Another contraction comes, pushing the second egg out amidst a deluge of milk from your swollen tits. How long can this go on? How long-

“Forever, darling,” says Isis in her motherly voice. “If you would like.”


End file.
